Silver and Cold
by NightWarrior
Summary: Political corruption, superpowered assassins, and a nasty winter. With the X men stuck right in the middle of it! Ultimate Universe X men, slightly influenced by Evolution. Set in between the Magnetic North and Date Night arcs. Please read and review.
1. Whispers in the Night

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Marvel-related…although given the crappy job Robert Kirkman is doing on Ult. X-Men at the moment, I wouldn't mind owning the creative rights for that particular book. The only things I do own are my OCs…who are the villains of this little piece.

And yes, the title _is_ stolen from AFI. It's a good song, and somehow, it seems to fit. At least for the first couple chapters.

Author's notes: Please be patient if a few things don't make sense. I promise they'll be explained later in the story. Do please leave comments, even if you think it sucks. I can improve bad writing, but I've got to have some idea of my flaws! ;-)

Oh, and folks who might get pissed about me bringing Ultimate stuff into the 616 section…have you **_seen_** the Ultimate section? It's dead as the dodo.

Whispers in the Night

_Come..._

Snow was drifting down on upstate New York. The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was covered in half a foot of the soft white stuff. When moonlight occasionally broke through the heavy clouds, it turned the snow into glittering drifts of silver, and the icicles on the mansion's eaves into spikes of purest diamond.

Black shadows drifted across the lawns like ebony ghosts as Kitty Pryde dreamt.

_Come, girl…You are safe. There is no harm…it is only a dream we speak in._

_Who are you?_

An image flashed through the sleeping girl's mind; three people in heavy jackets, hoods pulled up to shield their faces from the cold.

_Why me? Why not talk to the Professor, or Jean, or Scott?_

_The Professor and Miss Grey are too heavily shielded to reach, even in their dreams, and Mr. Summers is too skeptical to believe us…as are the rest of your friends. We can only come in the night, for only now can we slip away from our hunters. Were we to try and come in the day, we would be butchered before we reached your mansion and pled our case to your Professor. Please…_

_How do I know this isn't a trick?_

_We can only see each other and speak. I am no powerful telepath like your friend Miss Grey…I cannot harm you with my mind, nor can my friends. Please…you are it. We can only reach you. You must speak with us, and carry our message to your Professor._

_All right._

Kitty's dream-self rose from her bed, drifting through the window and down to the ground. She walked into the woods outside along a path of silver and shadows. The Northern Lights flickered overhead, brilliant in a sparkling dance of blue and green. Even in the dream, she could feel the cold's bite.

She stepped into a clearing to find herself facing the three figures she'd seen earlier.

_I'm here. What do you want?_

Something shot from the mouth of the man in the center and slammed into Kitty's shoulder.

The voice from before came again, shifted. _Dreamsss can ssseem like reality, girl, and sssometimesss reality can ssseem like a dream…or rather, be **made** to ssseem sssuch._

She tried to phase. Couldn't. Her body felt like it was being weighted down with a million blocks of lead. Kitty crumpled into the snow on her side, staring forward. Her eyes wouldn't move. No. **Couldn't** move.

"B-bastards." Even getting the word out seemed near impossible.

"You've got a right to think that way." The man in the center stepped forward, moving silently through the snow. "Sorry for having to do this."

"W-why m-me?" A billion blocks of lead now. She couldn't even feel the cold. Her eyelids were starting to close.

"You have information we need." He reached her, and knelt down in front of her head, meeting her eyes with no shame…only sadness. "And you have a blood type that's compatible with mine." He lifted her head with one hand, and she noticed something was twitching under the skin of his face.

"W-what?"

Tentacles grew from the sides of his head. They wiggled into Kitty's ears, curled up under the sides of her jaw. The man's tongue transformed into a tentacle, snaked into her mouth… through the back of her mouth and up in a mocking parody of a kiss. Two large tentacles grew from his shoulders and sprouted small, snapping mouths with plates of black chitin on top. They curled around behind her and sank their teeth into the back of her neck and skull, holding her head up.

Kitty's eyelids finally fluttered shut as she drifted off into the dark.

The Iron Serpent closed his eyes and took in the girl's memories. Tlash was too cold to sift through her mind, and he couldn't do telepathic tricks. His was a more old-fashioned method. He simply used the tentacles he'd grown to absorb the brain tissue that held memory, and made it one with his own mind. Images of the girl's life flashed through his head.

The memories he needed, he kept. Those he didn't, he returned, gently merging the restored tissue with the rest of her brain. The girl was no enemy…at least at the moment. Finally, he took away her memories of him and his allies, leaving her mind blank of everything that had happened since she got in bed.

That done, he absorbed the tentacles and their associated new muscles, opened his eyes, and stood. Tlash was standing next to him.

"Did you get it?"

"It's done. Got everything we need. Nice job making your mental image seem human. She didn't have a clue."

The reptilian humanoid grinned. "Thanksss. Let'sss go. I'm fucking…" Pointed teeth chattered. "Freezing!"

"No shit. All right. I'll run go leave her on the doorstep. Aurora, can you whip up a blizzard to hide me and wipe out my tracks?"

Pale blue eyes glowed under Aurora's hood. "Sure." Snow started to fall, fast and hard.

"Thanks."

As the Serpent bent to pick Kitty up, he noticed something. He snarled, and straightened up in a hurry.

"Man, Tlash, you didn't!"

Slit pupils dilated in anger. "I wasss hungry! You were handling your part!"

"Not cool! I didn't want to do any significant damage!" The Serpent pulled a hip flask and splashed it on Kitty's wound…although given the damage, he didn't think it would do much to prevent infection. "And if I hadn't spotted it, you would've left DNA evidence!"

"Right. Ssshit."

A growl. "I just hope that got it. Last thing we need is someone knowing what to hunt for-even in general. Go bring the truck around."

"I'm sssorry."

"And I'll forgive you, eventually. After I wash the blood she's gonna drip on me off my damn clothes."

The Serpent slung Kitty over one shoulder in a reversal of the standard fireman's carry and dashed off into the flying snow.


	2. Shredded Innocence

A/N: Short one this time, since I like the way the ending works. but there should be an longer chapter (hopefully) tomorrow.

Figured out a way to denote viewpoint shifts while I was gone. Should have thought of it earlier-it's so **simple**! I like my idea that Kurt talks to himself in German-but translating his thoughts would have been a bitch and a half, so I didn't bother.

BTW, the first bit of Evolution influence is coming into play here.

**X**

Shredded Innocence

**X**

Kurt Wagner was fixing himself a midnight snack when he heard the soft scratching at the mansion's front doors.

"Huh?"

He put his sandwich down, yawned, and cocked an ear. _What is it? An animal trying to find shelter? Someone sneaking back from a night on the town? Nah, can't be that. Even with the snow falling so heavily, I'd have heard a car or motorcycle pull up. Either Storm's dragging herself back in-not bloody likely-or there's a raccoon or something outside. I'll go let the poor thing in._

Hard pounding on the doors. Once, twice, thrice.

"Deshalb viel für **jene** idée…" (So much for **that** idea…)

Kurt concentrated for half a second, then vanished in a puff of brimstone. He reappeared at the front door, swore at the lack of a peephole, and opened it a cautious inch or two. The only thing visible through the crack was part of a bare leg, lying limp on the doorstep.

"Was die hölle?" (What the hell?)

_Can't be a trap-they'd have sprung it when I opened the door. So…_

He pulled the door open all the way.

"Mein Gott! Kitty!"

She was sprawled facedown, snow already starting to cover her, right arm pinned under her body, left arm dangling off the step. Blood was soaking into the soft white shroud around her head and torso.

_Oh JesusJesusJesus Kitty, please don't be dead! Mary, full of grace, don't let her be dead! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!_

Too panicked to even turn her over, Kurt scooped her up in his arms, then jumped to the school's infirmary.

Behind him, the tracks of a pair of combat boots were obliterated by the blowing snow.

He reappeared, staggered to the surgical table, and set Kitty down. His hand went to her neck, feeling desperately for a pulse. If she was breathing, it was so shallow he couldn't see it. Long seconds passed, and then Kurt felt a weak beat.

_Thank you, God! Forgive me for leaving her like this for even a second, but…_

He broke from his prayer. "Kitty, I'll be right back. I've got to get the Professor!" _Although I don't know how much good telling her that will do…_

Kurt gulped, vanished. When he appeared in the Professor's room, Xavier was already waking up, alerted by the panic in Kurt's thoughts.

"Kurt, what is it? What's happened!"

"Someone's attacked Kitty! Wake the others-I've got to get back to her!"

He gathered his strength, jumped again. Kitty was still unconscious. Kurt ran for the supply cabinet, pulled out hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and surgical tape, and rushed back to Kitty's side. Hands shaking, he sloshed hydrogen peroxide over the wounds in the back of Kitty's neck and head. She didn't even react to the sting of the disinfectant-she just lay there, heartbreakingly cold and still.

Kurt's mind raced. _My God, are those bite marks? Okay, stuff the wounds with gauze to absorb the bleeding until the Professor and Jean can get here to sew her up. Tape the gauze in place. Now, roll her over…oh JESUS!_

Blood was oozing out of Kitty's mouth and ears, and trickling from many small wounds around her jawline. The damage had been obscured by her hair until he turned her over. Kurt clapped a hand to his mouth, willing himself not to vomit.

_O-okay, get the little ones first. Just make up a big pad out of gauze and tape it on instead of trying to bandage all those. But her ears, her mouth…what if that means she's got brain damage, or a cracked skull! I can't do anything at all for that…Maybe I shouldn't have moved her. But I couldn't just leave her lying there!_

Then he looked down, and saw her right hand.

"Christus haben gnade!" (Christ have mercy!)

Kurt barely had time to bolt to the trash can before his mind lost the battle with his gag reflex.

That was how the rest of the X-Men found him-vomiting into the garbage, while Kitty lay limp and cold on the surgical table, the naked white bones of her hand barely held together by scraps of tendon.


	3. Angst and Planning

A/N: Shit. Took forever to get this next one up. Been **_busy_.** Fast note: Aurora is not related to Northstar's sister from 616 in any way, shape, or form. I read primarily Ultimate. My knowledge of 616 continuity is so poor, I didn't even know Northstar had a sister until I was reading some other fanfic. It's by some dude (chick?) using Beaubier as a handle. Go read it. It's good.

**X**

"You couldn't have done anything more, Kurt." Scott put a comforting hand on the fuzzy German's shoulder.

Kurt was slumped in a chair outside the infirmary, head in his hands. Inside, Professor Xavier and Jean worked frantically, trying to save the mutilated remnants of Kitty's hand.

"I should have." The shock had started wearing off, and now the tears were beginning to flow.

"Kurt…"

"Save the angst for later, boy." Logan's voice cut through Kurt's sobs, and he looked up despondently. "I found something you missed while you were gettin' Kitty to the infirmary. Can't exactly blame ya, but I need ya to give me a hand and go take a look."

"B-but, vhat about Kitty? Vhat if she wakes up? Vhat if something…happens?"

"Do not worry, Kurt. Scott and I will watch over her while you're gone." This from Piotr, sitting next to the infirmary door.

Kurt blinked. "T-thank you." Shakily, he pushed himself up and fell into step behind Logan as they trooped off.

**X**

Carved in the front door was a short message. _Hand injury not ordered._ Below the message was a seal-a coiled serpent, somehow etched in flickering gray flames that burned without consuming the wood.

"How 'bout it, boy? Look familiar?"

"Nein. I've never seen anything like that before in my life."

"Me neither. Was hopin' you had. I took a sniff at it earlier. There's no burnt smell from the fire-no heat, either-and the bastard who carved it doesn't smell right. Human at first, but there's all kinds of other scents underneath, too mixed to tell apart, and some real faint traces of blood. The blood ain't all human either, but none of the other stuff's animal. Something else. Can't place it."

Kurt sounded shaky. "All right. I'm going back to the infirmary now."

Logan restrained the urge to groan. _It's been all of five minutes! Boy may have a crush on Kitty, but that's takin' it too damn far. And while we're on the subject, once Charles calls Bobby and he gets back, don't go gettin' near the infirmary. Kurt and Drake'll be fightin' over this-and never you mind that Drake's got that thing with Rogue. Damn kids…_

**X**

The white F150 cruised down the deserted interstate, high beams cutting through the haze of falling snow. Poison was playing on the radio. _"Every rose has its thorn…"_

"I owe you a bit of an apology, Tlash. That bloody stunt of yours may have had some benefits after all. I was worried about their psychics trying to trace us, but since you haven't picked anything up… I guess they're too busy with the girl." The Iron Serpent took one hand off the truck's wheel, opened his bottle of lemonade-not the usual fifth of Maker's Mark tonight, not doing 90 in the snow-and took a sip.

"I ssstill ssscrewed up." Tlash was strapped in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the bright moon.

"Things work out funny sometimes. They may come after us down the line, but the immediate heat's off our back."

"Hopefully. Wasss all the information there?"

"Yep. All the data we need on our first target. And, in accordance with the backup plan, the various psychological weaknesses of the X-Men. I'll give you the scoop on that stuff when we get back to the motel."

Aurora spoke up from the back seat, rasping, "You still planning to do it yourself?"

"Yeah. It'll be faster than briefing you guys on everything."

"What if he gets informed about the girl and goes rushing to her bedside?"

"Every bit of data gathered here seems to indicate that he isn't that kind of man. And if he somehow has an attack of conscience, big deal. We'll hunt him down and kill him on the way. Or the way back. Doesn't matter."

The Serpent sipped his lemonade again as the white truck cruised into the night, heading for New York City and the first target.

**X**

Jean Grey stepped out of the infirmary, Kitty's blood still splotching her surgical scrubs. Kurt looked up at her -- he didn't even have to think the question before Jean answered him.

"She's stable, but she's still unconscious. She was out there in the snow for at least thirty minutes before she got dumped on the doorstep. Her body temperature's bordering on hypothermia. We've got her bundled up, and raised the heat in there."

"And her hand?"

"We've got the bleeding stopped, and it's soaking in antiseptic gel, but…well, you saw it. Stripped to the bone in some places, and half the tendons missing. I'm amazed it's even holding together. It's going to require major reconstructive surgery. The Professor can probe a surgeon's mind for _how_ to do that easily enough-he's working on that right now-but even once we've done the surgery – and we're going to have to get skin grafts from somewhere – she's never going to have full use of that hand again."

Kurt was silent for a long time, thinking. "Is there any way we can talk the Scarlet Witch-"

"-into trying to fix it with her powers? You know, that's a good idea. The Ultimates as a whole aren't going to be thrilled with us after the Triskelion debacle, but we might be able to convince her." Jean looked sheepish for a minute. "Although I think I'll let Charles do it."

"Ja. He's got the best shot. And if he can't…I'll beg her myself. Whatever it takes."


	4. My Beautiful One

A/N: Mostly filler, this time, but I'm fond of the first bit. I wanted to get something up, and I'm still tinkering with the next chapter, where we get a look at the murder scene…and a psychic glance at the murder itself. So don't stop reading! ;-) And review. Please.

**X**

Kurt looked down at Kitty's sleeping form and sniffled. After some heated debate, the Professor and Jean had decided to simply take skin grafts from the outsides of Kitty's thighs rather than send Wolverine to "borrow" grafts from Westchester General Hospital.

After hours of work, the two had managed to cover Kitty's exposed bones, but that was about it. The missing tendons were irreparable. Now the long process of healing -- along with watching and waiting for any signs of infection -- would begin. Jean and Xavier had staggered off to their respective beds half an hour before, but Kurt was still up, brooding.

_Haven't I suffered enough? Kitty and Alison, the only two women in the world who might ever, **ever**, care for my worthless self even a little, are both in comas with horrible injuries. Hell, haven't **they** suffered enough? What did any of us ever do to deserve this? Is there some great cosmic conspiracy to hurt everyone I love?_

He reached out and stroked Kitty's hair gently.

_And where was her precious Spider-Man when she really needed him? Swinging around New York on his little webs, while she was being torn to shreds. Someone like that doesn't deserve her. She could do better. Me, for instance._

Kurt snorted.

_And what's the odds of her ever looking at you the way she does at Peter Parker? Somewhere between low and non-existent. "Oh, Peter, you're so smart!" "Oh, Peter, you're so funny!" "Omigod, Peter, I can't believe you built those webshooters yourself!" Why can't it ever be "Oh, Kurt, you're so funny!" or "You're so charming!"or "Omigod, Kurt, I can't believe you programmed the Danger Room to make a unicorn for me!"_

_Hell, I'd settle for a simple "You're cute, Kurt."_

Kurt squeezed Kitty's good hand, let his fingers linger around hers for a moment, then padded off to bed.

_5:15 in the morning. Oh God. Pity those who have to pull themselves out of bed and **walk** down to the kitchen for breakfast._

X

Breakfast, usually full of cheerful chatter and occasional flying food, was a somber occasion that morning. Dead-tired teens swigged coffee like there was no tomorrow and picked at their food half-heartedly. Scott and the Professor had told the younger students to get up "whenever you want," but the older ones had crawled out of bed (literally, in Jean's case) and down to the kitchen for an emergency conference.

Kurt was there too. They couldn't have kept him away.

"Pass the coffee," Jean groaned. She'd finished her fifth cup, and was still tired enough to use the table as an impromptu pillow.

Wolverine slid the industrial-sized pot down the table. He was the only one still feeling remotely human. His healing factor gave him an edge on handling sleep deprivation…which meant he'd only needed two cups.

Kurt was propping his head up with one hand as he used the other to poke idly at an apple sausage. His prehensile tail was wrapped around his coffee mug, which had just been refilled a few minutes before. For the sixth time.

Storm, Scott, and Piotr were all on either their third or fourth cups.

Professor Xavier had his own personal pot. The combination of physical effort from Kitty's surgery and psychic effort from probing surgeons' minds for the necessary knowledge had put him in worse shape than anyone else.

And then the phone rang. The noise was agonizing to everyone's tired ears, like a knife being driven into their brains. Scott was closest. "Oh, hell. I'll get it." He staggered out of his chair, swiped his hand in the phone's general direction a couple of times, then finally snagged it.

"Hello?...No, I'm sorry, she's not available right now…What?...Oh my God. I'm so sorry. Of course I'll pass that on." Scott hung up, looking a lot more alert than he had just a minute before.

"That was Kitty's father. Her cousin Jacob, over in Manhattan, was murdered last night."

There was a chorus of shocked outcries.

Wolverine growled, "Well, now we can guess why Kitty was targeted."

Scott blinked. "What?"

"One of the bastards who hit her must have been a telepath. Simple-probe her memories, then use whatever she knew about her cousin to get at him easier."

"Oh hell. That's..."

"One of the many charming little tricks they drilled into me at Weapon X. They taught me to use brute force, but I saw them use up two telepaths doing it the other way."

"Please tell me you're not saying some remnant of Weapon X did this."

"No. Weapon X wouldn't have left Kitty alive."

Professor Xavier rubbed his forehead, thinking. "At least we know who our enemies _aren't_. It's not likely to be some group that splintered off from Magneto's, either. Any organization of that sort would have tried to kill us in our beds.

"Jean, Scott, Logan, take Scott's car and go to Manhattan, find out whatever you can about the murder. Search the crime scene only if you can do it without calling any attention to yourselves. After what happened at the Triskelion, Nick Fury's probably itching for an excuse to throw some of us in jail."

Jean found the energy to mumble, "Professor, can we do some online research beforehand? Knowing a little about Kitty's cousin might make it easier to figure out who killed him."

"Certainly. Meanwhile, I'm going to take Kurt's suggestion and see if Wanda can help us with Kitty's condition."

X

Jean, Scott, and Logan sat at one of the many school computers. Jean was handling the research-after all, it had been her idea, and neither Scott nor Wolverine were too hot with any sort of advanced search.

"Okay, Jacob Pryde. Google turns up news articles from," she yawned, "today, covering his murder. 27, worked as a political consultant. That gives us somewhere to look once I finish sorting through these. Two bodyguards killed with him. Details of the murder…were not released."

"Last job was in…Ohio, re-electing a candidate he's apparently had dealings with before. U.S. Representative Thomas Stone. All right, let's bring up LexisNexis and search for those two names, seperately and in conjuction."

"Hmm…several articles alleging election fraud in various forms, nothing proven. One article commenting on similar claims of fraud in a previous election Pryde worked on, down in Texas. A woman this time, state senator Harriet Willis. State senator…hmm, given how poorly those jobs pay, that generally means you're either loaded or have backers of some kind."

"Search for articles about her…bingo. Charged with accepting bribes from various in-state lobbyists. The case was dismissed because several witnesses disappeared or refused to testify. Let's print that out and look for similar stuff on Stone."

Wolverine stretched. "You and Scott keep looking, Jeanie, but I'm gonna go check the grounds, see if I can find any traces from last night. If you get done before I get back, start packing. We'll probably be there at least today and tomorrow."

X

Professor Xavier stretched his thoughts out towards New York City and the massive artificial island of the Triskelion in the harbor. He could feel the basic outline of the Scarlet Witch's mind within the fortress, but not touch it yet. Wanda's personality was a twisting ripple of all the shades of red, mixed with the sound of harp strings and the scent of the flowers that Magneto and his children had genetically engineered for the Savage Land, so long ago.

Xavier reached further, and gently touched Wanda's mind. Instantly, her body snapped into sharp relief inside the Professor's head. The outlines of her personality still flickered around her, but now that Xavier had made mental contact, her mind manifested the physical form as a confidence measure.

_Hello, Wanda._

_What do you want, Charles?_ The Scarlet Witch's mental voice was ice-cold.

_I'm not here on my own behalf, but rather on the behalf of a student, Miss Katherine Pryde, who has been attacked. By whom or what, we're not sure yet, but it stripped most of the flesh off her right hand._ Xavier sent a brief image of Kitty's maimed hand through the mental link he'd established, and felt Wanda recoil.

_And what do you think I can do about it?_

_We've performed enough surgery to save the hand, but she's never going to have full use of it again, at least with conventional methods. I was hoping you'd be willing to try using your powers on it. Creation instead of destruction._

_I don't know…_

_Well, let me introduce you to someone who has a stake in the outcome…_


	5. Memories

A/N: I like this chapter, despite having to rewrite the fight scene a couple times and short-change it a little. Writer's block made me realize I needed to pound out something for my loyal readers…okay, reader. ;-)

Also redid the ending of the last chapter for a few more descriptive details.

And Kirkman **sucks**.

X

Scott was leaning on his red convertible, Jean at his side and a pair of suitcases at his feet, when Wolverine walked in. The stocky man had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"We're ready to go. What did you find?"

"Any tracks are gone. Too much wind and snow last night."

"Scents?" Scott heaved the suitcases into the trunk as he spoke, then leaned over to pop the passenger door for Jean. Wolverine slung his duffel into the back seat and hopped in after it.

"Well, there's the mixed scent that was on the door, and one more. Smells like…a big lizard of some kind. Damned if I know how a lizard would be able to take the cold, though, or what the hell one would be doing here. Maybe the bastard who hit Kitty had a pet with him or something. What'd you turn up online?"

"No proof Stone has his hands in any illegal dealings, but-"

"-that just means he's good at cleaning up after himself."

"Crime scene, here we come." Scott swung into the driver's seat. The key turned, the engine roared, and the convertible shot off on the two-hour drive toward Manhattan.

X

_Wanda, this is Kurt Wagner._

_We've met. Nightcrawler, correct?_

_Ja._

_So why are you bringing him into this, Charles?_

_He found Kitty when she was dumped bleeding and half-frozen on our doorstep. And he's one of the better members of the team when it comes to emotional appeals._

On cue, Kurt fixed his yellow eyes on Wanda. Normally they were either sparkling with laughter (sometimes a mask, sometimes not) or dull with angst. Now the glowing orbs were brimming with tears as he pled his case. _Please help Kitty. She's…she's…ach, she's one of the people that help hold us together. For the most part. There's some petty stuff with two of the other students, but that's not important now. She doesn't deserve to go through life maimed._

Xavier broke in. _Besides, Wanda, can you really let an innocent girl suffer and not try to help? You're not your father, not even close._

X

Luck was on their side, for once. They'd gotten within range of Jean's telepathy before the forensics teams finished up and took the bodies away. She'd been able to plant a psychic suggestion that federal agents would be coming to examine the evidence, so it needed to be left in place, as close to its original condition as possible. Wolverine stopped in his tracks and inhaled deeply.

"What? What do you smell?"

"One of the same scents from the school. The one with all sorts of other scents underneath."

"That confirms what you were talking about earlier. Great."

Boots clicked on concrete as they jogged up the stairs.

The cop outside the half-open front door was pale, and flecks of vomit spattered the front of his uniform.

"Green, Winters, and Smith, FBI." Jean gave the officer a psychic nudge, making him see a trio of thirty-something federal agents with appearances drastically different from the three X-men.

"It's awful in there." The cop's shaking voice made him hard to understand, but not impossible. "I've seen some bad shit, same as any other cop, but this…half the serial killers the department's caught didn't mess up their victims this bad."

"Any idea what happened?"

"Not really. We checked everything within three blocks. Nobody saw anything that looked remotely suspicious before the murder. We've still got no idea what the hell the murder weapon was…CSU says there's three different types of wounds on the bodies. What's left of them.

"I can tell you what little we do know. It looks like the killer climbed up the fire escape and came in through the window about two AM. We got a couple 911 calls reporting breaking glass, shots fired, and a lot of screaming. There was a 911 call from the occupant, but it cut off before he could give us any information. Found his phone thrown into a wall."

"Anything else?"

"If you gotta puke, get outside like I did or do it in the kitchen sink. CSU checked that out, said it's clean. There's evidence in the bathroom."

"Got it. Thanks."

They ducked under the yellow crime scene tape…and stepped into an abattoir.

X

_Guilt-tripping me is hardly fair, Charles._

_No, it's not. But I need to do whatever has a good chance of working._

_Your honesty is…refreshing, at least. I'm just…_

Sensing hesitation, Kurt focused his best set of puppy-dog eyes on her.

_Don't look at me like that._

The boy's lower lip trembled.

Wanda threw up her hands. _Oh, for God's sake, fine! I'll see what I can do! Just stop with the sad expressions!_

_Thank you!_

_I'm too soft for my own good…Charles, that had better not be a smirk you're trying to hide._

X

Scott Summers paced through the slaughterhouse that had once been an expensive Manhattan apartment, and barely held down his gag reflex.

The two men who were Jacob Pryde's bodyguards had failed. They'd been ripped apart, and gouts of arterial blood painted the walls of the living room. More blood stained the carpet a deep burgundy. Shell casings littered the floor by one of the corpses, but the gunfire had apparently been useless, since one of the severed arms nearby still had its fingers locked around a .38 Special.

Pryde himself was worse. Whoever or whatever had butchered his guards had lopped off his right hand, and used the bloody stump to scrawl a crude message across his bedroom wall.

_Sic semper tyrannis_. Latin. _Thus always to tyrants_.

After the mutilation, Pryde had been decapitated. His eyes stared blankly up from the toilet bowl where his head had been unceremoniously deposited. Blood had stained the water pink. There was more writing in blood on the bathroom mirror, this time apparently done with a paintbrush taken from the dead man's desk. _Fitting, isn't it?_

Scott shook his head. "Man, someone's got a **_sick_** sense of humor."

"No shit." Wolverine's snarl came from about six inches behind him, and Scott damn near had a heart attack.

"Jeez, you know people don't get used to you sneaking around like that!" Summers' voice was shaky, and he stopped to suck in a deep breath.

Wolverine smirked, then stepped back to fill the doorway and growled, "Yeah, yeah. What'd you find while I was checking the fire escape?"

"The wounds on the corpses are strange. Bites on the first guard, claw marks on the second one, and the missing parts on Pryde look like something _snipped_ them off. One clean cut in each case."

"The _hell_?! The cop out front said no one within three blocks saw anything, and there wasn't anything left on the fire escape. Any tool with enough force to chop a limb off in one cut ain't something you can hide under a coat."

"I know. Something's not right here. Too many weird things, even for us. And Kitty's injuries don't match what we've seen here. The bite marks on that guy are too wide to come from the same thing that attacked her."

"Pity this Pryde didn't have a closed circuit camera set up. That's the only thing woulda told us what happened here."

Jean's voice drifted in from the living room. "How about the next best thing?"

Scott and Wolverine spoke in unison. "Huh?"

"Come in here. I'm not going to shout."

They trooped into the living room, where Jean was floating a couple inches off the floor, deep in concentration.

"All right. There's something I might be able to try. Kind of a way to sense what happened."

Scott blinked. "A little more detail, please, honey?"

"Exceptionally strong memories sometimes stay around where they were caused for a while-like a psychic video. If I really work at tracing them, I should be able to pick up what happened."

"Is it going to be safe for you to strain yourself that much?"

"Perfectly."

Jean settled herself crosslegged in midair and closed her eyes as a halo of fire sprang up around her.

X

Jean's mind fixed on the last memories from the night before. She could see the apartment, sharp and crystal clear. Pryde's two bodyguards-huge men, rippling with muscle-were lounging around. Pryde himself was in his bedroom, painting a city scene on a small canvas spread across his desk. An open briefcase, full of papers, was resting at his feet as he focused on his hobby.

There was a rattle on the fire escape outside the living room. The bodyguards briefly looked out the window. Nothing, but Jean felt a hissing crackle start to intrude on her thoughts, like radio or television static at a low volume.

More rattling, louder this time. The man closest to the window stood up and walked over to it. The static got worse.

The window crashed in, and a writhing nest of thrashing, scaly limbs came pouring through. Static roared in Jean's head as the guard by the window shrieked, _"What the FUCK?!"_ and leaped back, yanking a taser from its holster in the same motion.

A reptilian head on a long neck snapped out, ripping the man's right arm off in a gush of blood before he could fire. Then two more rose, taking off the screaming bodyguard's left leg and sending him crashing to the ground in a red pool. And still more heads swarmed out of the chaos, nine in all. They bit the man's remaining limbs off, then tore chunks from his torso and swallowed them, serpentine necks rippling, before one finally bit the guard's throat out.

It all happened in barely a minute. The other guard stared in shock for a good thirty seconds of that time, then pulled his .38 and began firing, screaming for Pryde to call 911. Bullets bit home in the center of the mass, and it seemed to stagger as the bodyguard emptied the revolver in the space of a few seconds. The thing roared in agony.

The heads pulled back, and the creature twisted, bones popping. Snapping mouths and long necks suddenly shrank as they were reabsorbed and melded into a single bestial head.

That head turned toward the armed guard. He swore and pulled a speed-loader from a coat pocket, cramming the device into the cylinder and twisting the knob to release the cartridges.

Scales retracted to show naked skin, which promptly grew fur. The writhing mass of reptilian coils transformed into a solid, muscular body, with clawed hands and feet. It sprang at the bodyguard as he slammed the revolver's cylinder shut and fired.

Bullets again struck home to no effect, claws blurred, and the guard went down screaming, both arms torn off. The thing pinned the writhing man with one hand and drove the other hand's claws up under the guard's chin, into his brain. The body spasmed, then went limp.

The trace went blank for a few seconds in a howl of white noise, and then Jean's mind was in Pryde's bedroom, watching as the thing lifted Pryde up and shoved him against a wall. Static crackled and popped, nearly drowning out the words that we spoken next.

"_What, you thought you'd get away with it? Killing anyone who found out about your little cabal?" _It shook Pryde back and forth, smacking his head into the wall again and again. "_How much did Stone and Willis pay you to rig their elections? How much did the companies backing **them** pay you? Tell me everyone you served! Tell me! Tell me!"_

Pryde spat in the thing's face.

"_Bold little man. Tell me now and it'll be relatively quick."_ The shapeshifter's right arm drew back and turned into a sharp pincer, like a scorpion's. Muscles swelled and expanded as a coat of black chitin formed over the skin. "_Otherwise, I snip your limbs off a few inches at a time. You'll talk eventually."_ The thing's lips skinned back from its sharp teeth in a vicious, leering grin.

The consultant coughed up blood. _"Cops…cops will be here soon."_

"_Do you really think they can stand against me? No matter what, you're not living through this! Tell me and it'll be over in a few minutes! Keep silent and it'll be a lot longer!"_ The pincer locked around Pryde's right wrist and started to squeeze. _"Three seconds. Two. On-"_

Names and details spewed from Pryde's mouth like lava from a volcano. Stone, Willis, the impressive amounts they'd funneled into the little man's pockets. A Senator and a U.S. Rep. from Mississippi who'd spent similar sums for Pryde's assistance in **_their_** campaigns. Corporate CEOs and Boards of Directors who'd been donating money (usually skimmed off company profits, rather than their own salaries) to Pryde's candidates in order to pay for his services.

"_Good. And as promised, this will be…relatively quick."_ Muscles in the shapeshifter's arm bulged, the pincer snapped shut, and Pryde screamed.

Jean gagged and tore her mind free of the trace. _I don't need to see the rest of this_.

Scott was looking at her, face drawn tight in worry.

"Jean, you're white as a sheet. What'd you see?"

"Our killer's a shapeshifter. And a sadistic bastard to boot."

Wolverine growled. "Shapeshifter…that would explain the mixed scent. Can't believe I didn't figure that out already."

"But how did it…he…survive twelve bullets to the chest? One of the bodyguards emptied a revolver into him twice, didn't miss a shot, and…" She gestured at the severed arm holding the .38.

Scott thought for several minutes. "He might be able to create some sort of organic bulletproof vest. There've been experiments with making spider silk into a bulletproof material. It's still in R&D, but a shapeshifter might figure the mechanics out a lot faster."

"Seems a little iffy, Shades," Logan grunted.

"Yeah, but at least it's a theory." Scott scratched his head. "Jean, you said something about him being a sadist?"

She nodded shakily. "The way he took Pryde and his guards apart, the way he moved, the tone of his voice…he was having **_fun_** doing it. But here's what really scares me. All the memories I picked up from were from the guards or Pryde. The shapeshifter didn't leave any traces behind. His memories should have influenced things, especially the way he was acting. But there was just…static. He's got a psychic block of some kind."

Scott and Wolverine spoke in unison.

"Shit."

X

Yes, I know "expensive Manhattan apartment" is redundant. ;-)

R&D: Research and Development. (Like you couldn't have guessed.)

CSU: Crime Scene Unit. (See above.)


End file.
